


respect is due

by tripcyclone



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drinking, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pole Dancing, Pre-Canon, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-10 20:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15298941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tripcyclone/pseuds/tripcyclone
Summary: Chris finds out just how seriously Yuuri takes contemporary dance forms.





	respect is due

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Teuthida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teuthida/gifts).



The man on the pole was as powerful as a gymnast and it was clear that Yuuri didn't like him.  Yuuri had his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the man whip around in effortless sideways circles, so fast he almost blurred.  When he finally dismounted, his muscles gleaming with sweat under the colorful club lights, Yuuri stuck his hand physically in between Chris’s hands so he couldn’t clap with the rest of the small crowd.  “ _No_ ,” Yuuri said, tipsy enough that the vowel sound ran away from him for a couple seconds.  “That was _terrible_.”

“Really?” Chris turned Yuuri’s hand over and stroked his thumb along the inside of Yuuri’s wrist.  “I thought he was rather nice to look at.  What didn’t you like?”

“His _mindset._ ”  Yuuri stared fixedly at Chris’s slowly moving thumb.  “It’s all wrong.  This isn’t Cir...Cir... _Chris._ ”

“What?”

“I can’t _think_ when you do that.”

That was why Chris liked to do it, as a matter of fact, but—“My apologies,” he said, covering Yuuri’s inner wrist with the flat of his hand.  “What were you saying?”

“This isn’t _Cirque du Soleil,_ _”_ Yuuri said with renewed vigor.  “You shouldn’t treat the pole like the parallel bars.  It’s disrespectful.”

Chris laughed.  “Disrespectful?”

“Yes,” Yuuri said.  He leaned in closer to Chris, buoyed by sincerity and gin.  “Every type of dance has a _history_ and a _spirit_ , and if you don’t know both, you can _never_ master the form.”

“That’s beautiful,” Chris said.  “Who said that?”

“I don’t remember,” Yuuri said vehemently.  “But it’s true.  Pole dancing isn’t about speed, or—or tricks.  It’s about sensuality.  It’s _sexual._ ”

Chris couldn’t remember ever hearing the word _sexual_ come out of Yuuri’s mouth before.  It had to be the gin talking.  Chris was going to bring twenty bottles of it to Worlds.  “Where is this expertise coming from, all of a sudden?” Chris asked.  He took Yuuri’s other hand and pulled him a fraction closer.  “I thought I was supposed to be the authority on all things sexual.”

Yuuri stared distractedly at Chris’s lips.  “I took a class,” he said. 

“On what?”

“Pole dancing.”

Chris paused.  The parameters of reality creaked and groaned behind his eyes.  “I find that hard to believe,” he said. 

Instantly Yuuri’s eyes went wide and offended.  “I _did_ ,” he said, indignant. 

“You wouldn’t even set foot in a nightclub with me until last year,” Chris said. 

“That’s _different,_ ” Yuuri said.  “Pole dancing is a contemporary dance form.  My college teaches it.”

Suddenly the left half of Yuuri’s body dropped down half an inch.  Chris looked down: Yuuri had kicked off his left shoe.  “What are you doing?” Chris asked. 

Yuuri kicked off his right shoe.  “I’m going to _show_ you.”

Chris liked to think of himself as a world-weary veteran of all life’s pleasures, but the sight of Yuuri Katsuki shoving his socks off his feet and striding up to a stripper pole was a wonder of the world he had never even imagined.  The club was playing a song with a pulsing beat, and Yuuri reached up and caressed the pole with one hand, his hips undulating a little to rhythm.  He circled around the pole once, fingertips tracing the gleaming metal, and then he slid his hand down and swung upside down into the air. 

Holy mother of God.  Chris’s tongue felt thick in his mouth.  Yuuri made it look _effortless:_ his muscular legs, shapely in his dark jeans, pointed up at the ceiling in a perfect vertical before they opened, fanning out slowly into a yawning _V._ Chris had seen Yuuri with his legs spread like that in bed before—not as many times as he would’ve liked, but there were only so many competitions in a year—and the sight of him doing it in public sent a very confused throb through Chris’s dick. 

Someone in the crowd wolf-whistled as Yuuri rotated slowly downward, legs lithe and perfectly controlled.  Then his hand position shifted in an origami blur, and he was upright: one thigh wrapped tight around the pole, the rocking swing of his body perfectly on beat.  He extended his arm and crooked a finger at Chris, and Chris moved forward like a man hypnotized.  Yuuri rotated once more, twice, achingly slow—

—and then he tumbled down into Chris’s arms, laughing, a gorgeous flush on his face.  “Well?” Yuuri said, triumphant. 

Chris swallowed hard.  “That was—extremely respectful,” he said. 

Yuuri grinned.  Chris tightened his arms, pulling him in a little closer.  “I imagine that was hard to do wearing jeans,” he said.  “I wonder if it would be more respectful to try again without them on.”

 _“Chris,”_ Yuuri said, but the complaint in his voice didn’t match the exhilaration on his face.  Chris leaned in and kissed his smiling mouth, and perhaps it was a testament to the power of gin that Yuuri laughed and kissed him back, his hips twitching with the slightest hint of suggestion against Chris’s. 

Good God.  Chris was going to bring twenty bottles of gin to Worlds, and he was going to bring a pole, too.  Never let it be said that he didn’t appreciate the contemporary arts.  


End file.
